


face your fears

by sherrybaby



Category: IT - Stephen King, Stand By Me (1986)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, stand by me x it, this is an idea that i've had for a while so i hope it comes out decently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 21:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12067320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrybaby/pseuds/sherrybaby
Summary: The boys are visited by an unexpected guest, forcing them to face their fears.





	face your fears

**Author's Note:**

> This is something i've been wanting to write for a while so I hope it comes out alright.

“I can’t take much more of this heat,” Teddy complained, throwing his cards down onto the table in front of him. Chris lazily slapped at a mosquito on his bare arm and folded his card hand too. It was a record heat-wave in Castle Rock, something they hadn’t seen in 100 years.  The two boys and Gordie sat in their treehouse, playing poker in exchange for the usual array of pennies and cigarettes and comics, but the game was slow-going. Gordie was convinced his brain was boiling inside of his skull.

“Complaining about it doesn’t make it better,” Gordie muttered, stripping his shirt off and wiping his forehead with it. Teddy glared at him and opened his mouth to argue when three knocks sounded underneath their feet; they all exchanged looks.

“That’s not the secret knock.” Teddy called, stomping his feet on the floor.

“I forget the secret knock, let me in!” Teddy rolled his eyes as he leaned over and opened the door to let Vern scramble in.

“Jeezum, it’s hot out there,” he panted, scooting a box closer to the three boys.

“We know,” they answered in unison.

“I’m just sayin’, let’s go do somethin’!”

“How about the quarry,” Teddy suggested. “I wanna work on my backflip.”

“Naw, it’s closed off, Chuck Barclay almost broke his neck jumping off the rocks so they shut it down,” Gordie explained, swatting away a mosquito.

“So what, we can sneak around, we can-“ Teddy was cut off by Chris shaking his head.

“I’m not itching to get caught by the cops- or worse, Ace Merrill.”

“What else is there to do?”

“There’s always the parade.” A murmur of approval rose through the group, except for Vern, who needed a little extra convincing; he hated the clowns that were sure to be there.

“Come on, Verno. What else is there to do? Plus there’s gotta be food there.”   
“Like what?”  
“Hot dogs, popcorn, sno cones, you name it.” Vern’s eyes lit up at the promise of the sickly sweet junk food.  The boys ran to their homes to scrounge up some change, making plans to meet on Main St in fifteen minutes.

The street was lined with people, fair flyers in hand folded in half to fan their faces. Sticky kids ran through the crowd, covered in sno cone juice and melted cotton candy, marking their mouths a gruesome shade of red. Vern’s fliching when he caught sight of floppy shoes and red noses and squeaky horns did not go unnoticed by Teddy who slugged him twice each time.

“When are you gonna grow out of this baby stuff, Verno,” Teddy mocked, pulling faces at the boy.

“I just don’t like that I can’t see their real faces,” Vern muttered, stuffing his hands in his pocket and kicking at a rock. Chris pulled him away shortly after to get him a blue sno cone after reassuring him that clowns were seriously weird and that tons of people didn’t like them. Vern returned in a much better mood- Chris was good at that kind of thing.

The crowd grew as the day wore on and soon the boys found themselves wedged between the families, threatening to push each other out into the slow-moving parade when the high school flag girls walked by to ensure maximum embarrassment. A colorful clown danced alongside the girls, hanging off of light poles, ruffling kids’ hair as it passed by.

Vern made an uncomfortable sound in his throat as the clown drew nearer, across and down the street a little. The clown turned and looked right at Vern; almost liked he sensed his fear. It wiggled its fingers at Vern, mouth bright red not unlike the screaming children surrounding them. Only there was something off about this grin. Vern couldn’t quite place what it is and the thought

_(blood? Is that blood?)_

tried to swim to the forefront of his brain, but he couldn’t latch onto it.

Then time slowed down. The clown’s suit swished and swayed even though there was no wind, its bright orange pom poms jutting out cheerfully from the silk fabric. It took a few steps closer, slowly, its grin getting bigger with each step. The clown’s eyes were a strange silver color, gleaming like quarters out of his bone white face paint. The crowd still cheered, but the sound was far away, like they were listening to it through a glass put up to a door.

Gordie’s head swam, making it hard to concentrate. Was this really happening? He tried to look at the others but felt sluggish. Vern was the first to break the silence.

“I don’t like this, guys. Sincerely.” His voice trembled. Gordie shook his head to clear it and the haze broke momentarily. He craned his neck to look at the other three boys. Vern’s lips were pulled back from his teeth and his eyes were wide in a frightened grimace. Chris’ brow was furrowed, his eyes alert, darting back and forth as if looking for an escape route. Teddy put on a brave face; no doubt he was telling himself that his father stormed the beach at Normandy, dammit, and no bizarro clown would scare him.

“You’re just overreacting.” Teddy’s face was determined, but his voice didn’t quite cover the wave of fear washing over him. The clown turned its attention to Teddy now, pointing at him. 

_are you scared, teddy_

Teddy paled, his breath reduced to short, hitching gasps. Gordie felt his own chest tighten as the words rebounded in his head. Tears pricked his eyes.

The clown reached behind him and produced four balloons, extending them out to the boys. 

“This isn’t fucking real,” Vern whimpered.

“No, Vern, it’s a bad dream, heatstroke or something. We’ll all wake up in the clubhouse with heatstroke,” Chris reassured him. Vern and Teddy took him at his word, but Gordie detected a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“YEAH YOU BASTARD. YOU’RE NOT FUCKING REAL,” Teddy screamed. The clown recoiled slightly at the sudden noise. “WE’RE GONNA KICK YOUR ASS.”

The clown’s giggle, high and childlike reached Gordie’s ears before the figure disappeared with the tiniest  _pop!_

The parade resumed in full force, the high school band making the boys jump as their cymbals clashed right in front of them. Gordie couldn’t contain his scream. Vern let out a heaving sob then ran to the trash can, throwing up the sweets he had consumed. The boys called it a day soon after, unsure of what to say or think. Chris chalked it up to heat stroke but kept an arm around Vern’s shoulder as they walked to their homes. 

By the time night rolled around, Chris, Teddy, Vern and Gordie convinced themselves they had had some sort of mass hallucination. The parade was the last thing on their minds as they went to sleep that night; no one anticipated the dreams that came.


End file.
